Those Exist?
by Ta'yara
Summary: Colonel Jack O'Neill is very sick. He was bitten... by a wolf on another planet. Take a wild guess at what he is now. (No pairings)
1. The Sickness

**Those Exist?**

A/N: Okay this is my first Stargate fic so please go easy on me… As far as I know this can be placed in any of the seasons where Daniel is there, Jack is still a Colonel, and Carter is a Major. So yeah, hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Stargate characters…

The Sickness

Worshipping the porcelain goddess. The stupidest, sickest metaphor on the face of the Earth. At least at the moment. Why the hell would someone make a metaphor like that for the disgusting feeling of heaving up whatever you ate last into a toilet? It's called puking, barfing, throwing up. Yeah, that comes a heck of a lot closer to describing it then that sickeningly awful metaphor. Damn it! Why now! What the hell! He hadn't thrown up since… since… A while ago. Puked? Years ago. Feeling nauseous was a bit of a different matter. Stupid Zats.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually thrown up his dinner. He was pretty sure it was a long time ago. All the more reason to believe he shouldn't have had to ever, _ever_ feel like this again for the rest of his life! He had a steel stomach! He's lived off local plant and animal life from another planet, for god's sake! But, no. Now… _now_, he was sitting on the cold floor, leaning against a wall in his bathroom, none-to-far from his toilet, fighting back the nausea and hoping that he wouldn't do it again. He had thrown up four times in the past two hours.

Four! And he'd been feeling perfectly fine before that. No indications that he'd be puking up his dinner ten minutes later. Just minding his own business, watching tv, drinking an after dinner beer… Yep, that's when he felt it.

Absently, he scratched at the edge of the bandage on his right forearm. The wound wasn't large, but it was deep. Damn dog. He scratched at it again. It was healing slowly, he'd gotten it a week ago on another planet, P9-something-4 – he couldn't remember and didn't really care. The natives seemed nice, welcoming them with open arms and a feast prepared. It was like a huge village party after the feast, dancing women and moonshine. He smiled slightly at the memory until his stomach decided it had had enough of his smiling and sent a wave of nausea through him. He grimaced.

The next day, though, after the party the natives—what did they call themselves? Lycamphs? Lycathes? Something like that—had insisted that they leave by nightfall. Something about something being loose: wolves or dogs or something like that. He hadn't really been able to understand them all that well. They had very thick accents, even Daniel was having problems.

So, SG1 had left that afternoon, but it was nearly a four hour trek back to the Stargate, and by the time they got there it was dusk. Out of the blue, while Carter was dialing the 'gate, this wolf-dog thing came out of nowhere and attacked him. Bite him on the arm, for crying out loud. He had shot at it and scared it off, he wasn't sure if he hit it or not. The wormhole had done its _whoosh_ thing and they had left. Doc Frasier had fixed him up and he was okayed to go home. That was a week ago, and the damn bite was still itchy as hell. Itchier then most wounds were at this stage, anyway.

He should have the Doc look at it again. It was turning all brown and he wasn't sure whether it was getting infected or not. But that wasn't the problem at hand. Maybe he got food poisoning or something? The Chinese take out? That had to be it. What else could it be?

Noticing that he was feeling a little better, and silently ordering his body to stay that way, he pushed himself up into a proper sitting position. His back was starting to hurt. Taking that as a good sign—because he actually noticed the dull pain in his back instead of completely ignoring it in favour of his stomach—he decided he would try to get some sleep. He was due back at the SGC tomorrow.

* * *

"Well, is it infected or what?" Colonel Jack O'Neill snapped irritatedly. He was still feeling nauseous and hadn't taken the chance at eating anything yet.

"Actually, sir, I don't know. I'd like to take a blood sample. It doesn't show the regular signs of bacterial infestation, but it shouldn't be that colour…" she trailed off as she turned to get a needle. "Anyway," she continued as she took his blood, "are you feeling alright otherwise, sir? You don't look very good."

Jack didn't answer immediately. He didn't trust his body enough to open his mouth to talk. He waited until she had pulled out the needle before answering. "Actually, doc, now that you mention it…" He grimaced and lied back on the bed he was sitting on, he was feeling dizzy and light-headed, his stomach had decided that since it had nothing to empty itself of, that it would settle for just being in pain. "No, I don't!"

There, he said it. He closed his eyes against the light.

"What are you feeling?" Frasier's voice softened a bit.

He waved his hand in the air dismissively as he listed off what he felt. "You know, dizzy, light-headed, sick, kinda tired –"

"How sick? What do you mean?" Doc Frasier probed, clipboard in hand.

He sighed. Now he was in for it. She wouldn't stop until she knew enough to keep her happy… which was _everything_. Time to try to get away.

"You know Doc, just talking to you, I feel better." He began to sit up but she pushed him back down.

"Uh uh, sir. There's obviously something wrong with you or you wouldn't have said anything in the first place. Now, tell me."

She had a point there. "Alright, alright," he said crankily. "Fine. Sick. As in, sick to my stomach," he enunciated each syllable of the last part trying to annoy her.

"Nausea? Pain? What?"

"Both," he said simply, dismissively. He was no longer volunteering information.

"Have you gotten sick? Thrown up?"

He could hear concern behind her professionalism. He shrugged noncommittally.

"Okay, I'll take that as a yes. How many times?"

What the heck did that matter? But he didn't feel well enough to actually put up a fight about it. "Four."

"When?"

"Last night."

"Any other symptoms?"

He shook his head.

"Well, sir, I'd like you to stay here, until we have some of the test results back. It may just be a simple flu but we have to make sure."

"Whatever," he said trying to make his voice sound normal, but to him it sounded tired and dull. He would never admit it to anyone else, but whatever it was, wasn't just making him tired, but it also made him feel weak, like his arms were too heavy to lift.

That feeling made him want to run a few laps or hit the gym. Work it off. He didn't like feeling weak. In fact he didn't usually tolerate it from himself. And had he the barest amount of energy, he would be up and headed for the gym. As it was, all he wanted to do was sleep.


	2. The Change

The Change

He woke up to a cold hand pressing against his forehead. It pulled away and he heard the scratching of pen on paper right by his ear. He groaned quietly as he became more aware of his body, every sound he heard—every murmur, every tap of a footstep—seemed to pound a nail through his head.

"Colonel?" Doc Frasier's voice came from right beside him. Yep, he should've known it was _her_ cold hand.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and squinted against the bright lights, grimacing as it sent a throb of pain through his head. He blinked a couple times to get rid of the blurriness and then turned to look at the Doc.

"How long?" he said noticing his voice sounded hoarse and tired. He cleared his throat.

"Over three hours. How are you feeling?" she turned slightly and put the clipboard down on a nearby table. That movement brought to his attention the fact that this was definitely _not_ the place he had fallen asleep in.

"Oh, the usual: headache, sore muscles, tired…" he paused briefly and she glanced at him. "Where am I?"

"Sorry, sir, we moved you into an isolation room. I'm afraid you have a virus," she answered distractedly as she picked up a needle and cleaned his arm to take another blood sample.

He sighed frustratedly. "I'm guessing it's not the flu?"

"Uh, no sir." She paused as she pulled the needle out and pressed cotton to his arm. Then she sighed as well and put a cap on the needle, before turning back to him. "I've never seen anything like it. It's not only almost completely evading your natural defenses, but it seems to be altering parts of your genome. Mutating and even bonding with specific nucleic acid sequences."

When she stopped, he looked at her expectantly. "And?"

"It's changing you, sir! I don't know how or why or into what. And… and I don't know how to stop it," she said the last part softly and apologetically.

"Great, I'm a mutant." He lifted his head off the pillow and tried to prop himself up on his elbow, he wasn't feeling as bad as before and had had enough of lying flat on his back. Frasier got the message and hit the button that adjusted the bed into a sitting position. He leaned back against the pillow again now that he was sitting up and glanced back at the Doc.

"Not yet, sir. It's spreading rapidly, but we're bringing a specialist in. They should be here tomorrow morning." She hesitated and he jumped in asking the question he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to.

"Is it contagious?"

She was silent for a second and then shook her head slightly. "I don't think so, sir. It's not airborne, anyway. It's seems to have gotten in by way of the bite." She gestured to his still bandaged arm. "Whether it got in after the bite or the animal transmitted it, I don't know. The rest of SG1 are being tested now."

* * *

"So… everyone's okay then? No viral infections, headaches, fatigue – that sort of thing?" he asked casually of the three people in front of him. He already knew the answer, Frasier had told him, but he still felt a little relieved when the answer came back negative.

"No sir, we're fine," Carter answered for the group with a slight smile. "How are you?"

"Oh, good, good – fine," he paused for just a second, for effect of course, then continued on sarcastically, "Other than the fact that I'm a _mutant_!" He was feeling a bit better since he'd woken up, though still lacking in energy, his headache had gone down to a dull throb and he could deal with the sore muscles.

"Jack, you're not a mutant, we're still not sure what's happening to you."

"Daniel," he said in his best look-at-the-obvious voice, "a virus is _mutating_ my insides, therefore making me a mutant." He allowed a tense pause to prove his point before diffusing it.

"Do you think I'll get special powers?" That did it.

Carter smiled at him. "I'm sure you will, sir."

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed with a slight tilt of his head, "and should you gain powers, I could not think of a worthier candidate."

"Why thank you, buddy. I'm honoured you think I'm worthy of special powers. Really," he added when he realized that he probably sounded sarcastic. He nodded to Teal'c who bowed his head slightly back.

"Yes, Jack, we all think you should have super powers," Daniel said in a tone of mock resignation to the majority.

Carter grinned. "Oh, come on, Daniel. Don't you think it'd be cool to have super powers?"

"Yeah, 'leap tall buildings in a single bound', lift up a car with one hand," Jack added on.

"To be able to crush the enemy as though they were insects," Teal'c also added to the sentiment.

Daniel looked sceptically around at the three of them and sighed. "Yes, of course, very – cool."

"What's cool?" Doc Frasier asked as she walked into the room.

"Oh you know, super powers," Jack said casually and dismissively. "Found a cure yet?" he asked the same question as he did every time the Doc or one of her nurses came into the room.

"Not yet, sir," she answered back automatically as she checked the machines he had recently been hooked up to, to make sure none of his vital organs decided to stop working, mainly his heart—which he could hear beeping along just fine.

"Anyway, sir, I should get back to work," Carter said, getting up from the stool she had been sitting on.

"Uh, yeah, me too," Daniel added, standing as well. "Jack." He nodded.

"Daniel."

"Take care, sir. Bye, Janet. Are you coming Teal'c?"

"I shall stay," the Jaffa announced taking the seat Daniel had vacated—which was more out-of-the-way then where he was standing before—as Carter and Daniel left.

"So… do anything interesting today?" Jack asked Teal'c after a moment's pause, as Frasier pick up a clipboard and started scribbling stuff down on it.

"I did not; it was a most uneventful day."

"Feeling better, Colonel?" Frasier cut in, clipboard still in hand.

"Yep," he answered truthfully.

"That's good." She wrote something down.

"So, can I go then?" he asked in his most hopeful voice.

"Sir, the way your body is reacting to this virus, I can't imagine you having any energy at all to do a lap around this room, let alone wonder around the SGC. I'm sorry sir, but until we find out exactly what it's doing to you, I can't let you out of this room." She glanced at him apologetically before writing something else down.

"I just _knew_ you were gonna say that."

She was right, though, he had no energy; it was just this damn room was starting to get on his nerves. There was nothing to do… Okay, so he had a tv that had some channels, but still, he'd been in here for _hours_. The least they could do was bring him his Play Station; which, by the way, they hadn't yet for some reason. He'd have to talk to someone about that. He just wasn't sick enough at the moment to keep himself preoccupied.

* * *

Okay, so the rest of the day wasn't that bad. Carter stopped by before she left the base as did Daniel a bit later. General Hammond stopped by as well at some point, talking about what was happening on base and what not, the missions and how they were going. Teal'c stayed for the rest of the afternoon up until about an hour ago when Frasier forced him to leave to go have something to eat, which was about the same time as his Play Station arrived.

Frasier had been reluctant for him to have it for some reason, _but_ using his finely honed diplomatic skills, he managed to convince her that it would be very good for him—and everyone else—if he had some sort of distraction, something to keep him occupied. It worked of course. So now, he was sitting relatively comfortably on the bed playing a street racing game.

Suddenly, he felt something like a shiver run through his body. Pausing the game, he glanced around the room, which only revealed that he was alone. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the pillow and sighed tiredly. Behind his eyelids he could visualize the darkening sky out side, the many stars slowly becoming brighter as the sun steadily disappeared. He could see the moon in his mind somehow, it was low in the sky and becoming more visible, rising higher, as the sun's light faded. He could sense it, like he just _knew_ that that was how the sky outside looked.

He felt a sudden rush of adrenaline and could feel his heart begin to beat faster, hammering against his chest as though he'd just run a mile with an army of Jaffa hot on his heels. Damn it, he thought as he sat up feeling a surge of restlessness. Pulling off the sensor-things that were taped to his chest, he got out of the bed and headed for the door of the isolation room. He had to get _out_, the room was too _small_. He _needed_ the sky and the forest to be above and around him.

He reached the door. And stopped. Why the hell did he need that? He grimaced as he fought back the powerful urge that somehow didn't feel like it was coming from him or at least wasn't his own. He took two steps back, away from the door, and then three. He turned sharply around and became still, all his energy focusing on overpowering the instinct that was clawing at him. He could leave, it wasn't like there was a guard on him or anything, but what the hell for? To run around in a forest? Right.

He didn't notice the door to the room slide open as he felt an immense pain run through him. He could feel it even through the adrenaline. Like his body was being filled with acid and searing his insides. His knees buckled beneath him and how hard he hit the floor he didn't care; he was barely aware of himself as he curled up. Abruptly, everything around him disappeared. It was only him, the pain, and oddly, visions of the night sky behind his eyes again.


	3. The Discovery

The Discovery

"Colonel?" Dr. Fraiser asked as she hurried over to O'Neill's side and knelt down beside him. She had come here to check on the Colonel quickly before she went home for the night, but as she walked into the room she saw him collapse.

"Colonel, can you hear me?" She laid a hand on his shoulder, and leaned in a little closer, trying to see if there was any reaction from him. The muscles under her hand were tensed and she could feel them vibrate slightly from the strain.

"Colonel?" she said again, loudly and urgently, as she tried to pry his arm away from his face. It didn't budge and no reaction showed that he knew she was there. Quickly, she reached around his arm and felt for a pulse. It was there and although it was very rapid, it was strong. She tried again to pry his arm away and again it didn't budge. She gave up and paused, blocking all the sounds in the room from her mind, she took a breath and focused on Colonel O'Neill. She could hear his breathing, it was shallow and ragged but it was there.

Suddenly, there was a cracking sound—like bones snapping—accompanied by ripping sounds and a grunt of pain from O'Neill. Startled, she pulled away.

"Sir?"

Still no response. She hesitated for an instant and then stood, ran across the room, grabbed an emergency kit, and was back beside the Colonel as fast as she could. Opening the kit, she grabbed a pair of scissors and half-cut-half-ripped away the back of the shirt of the scrubs he was wearing.

Just then two nurses jogged into the room. She hadn't called anyone, she didn't know why they were here, nor did she care. Upon seeing her, she heard them slow down and then stop a few feet away.

"Doctor?" one of them asked.

She held up her hand for silence and to stay them. Another sickening crack-crunching noise filled the air and this time she watched his bare back as his ribs seemed to change shape. But that's not possible. She could see the tensed muscles of his back rip and shift. With a grinding noise his shoulder blades shifted, altering position, and she heard his collar bone snap. He was physically changing from the inside out!

She was at a loss of what to do. She had no idea what she could do to stop it, nor whether she should or not. She could tranquilize him, give him a sedative, but as far as she could tell that wouldn't stop the progress. Besides, he already seemed to be unconscious.

The Colonel moved slightly, his position loosening a bit. She glanced over him and noticed that his bare feet were lengthening, his feet in general almost reshaping completely. Looking at his back again, she had to double take. Was that hair? Fur? Carefully, she reached out and touched his back. It was!

She heard an odd snarling sound and glanced up surprised to see that O'Neill's face was uncovered. His jaw and scull was also changing shape slightly, as were his ears, she noted. Her eyes widened as she saw the claws growing from his fingers.

Abruptly, her indecision of what she should do, ended. She couldn't do anything for him right now, the best she could do was contain him in case whatever was happening to him, made him dangerous. She stood and looked at the two unsure nurses.

"Out," she ordered as she jogged toward the door. Both people obeyed and left with her. Locking the door shut behind her, she turned one of the nurses. "Don't let anyone into this room. Don't open this door for anything." And without waiting for an answer from him, she turned on her heel and walked to the nearest phone, which was luckily only a few feet away. General Hammond should still be driving and this, he definitely needed to know.

She got through on his cell phone.

"Hammond."

"Sir, this is Dr. Fraiser, it's Colonel O'Neill, we have a problem."

* * *

"What the hell is going on?" General Hammond's voice came from the door, behind Janet Fraiser. After she had briefly spoken with the General on his phone, she had immediately headed back to the infirmary to see if she could find out something—_anything_ about what was happening to the Colonel before Hammond got back. Twenty minutes on inconclusive tests, and she still hadn't gone back to the isolation room to see exactly what the Colonel had turned into.

"Frankly sir, I don't know." She turned frustratedly away from the microscope and headed out of the lab, Hammond walking with her. She briefed him as they walked.

"Outside of the vector, i.e. Colonel O'Neill's cells, the virus is still active—and the mutations are still happening. But _why_ he's changing to this degree, I don't know. His body is somehow reshaping itself at an exponential rate," she said as they turned down a hallway.

"What's your best guess doctor?" Hammond asked calmly, she had his full attention, even if he wasn't sure he understood exactly what was happening.

"My guess is that there must've been some kind of catalyst, which was probably triggered by a higher brain function," she answered as she opened the door to the small observation area behind the isolation room. She walked up to the one way mirror and stopped, Hammond came up beside her. What they saw silenced them both. All she could do was stare at the creature.

Its fur was grey brown in colour, roughly the same colour as O'Neill's hair, her mind seemed to note unconsciously. It was moving on all four legs and was roughly dog or wolf shaped… only bigger, thicker. Its legs were abnormally thick for a canine and its back was broader. Its muzzle was short and thick as well, and where the fur stopped, the nose skin was pink. Its ears were small and pointed, pressed back against its scull. The creature's tail was short, about half as long as a regular sized tail for a dog, as far as she could tell, anyway.

"What the hell? Are you sure _that's_ Colonel O'Neill?" Hammond asked sounding a bit angry.

"Yes sir," she said certainly, and she realized it was true. This creature matched up with what she saw when she watched the Colonel changing.

"Doctor, are you trying to tell me that my second in command is some kind of a… a werewolf?" the General asked disbelievingly.

She hesitated before answering, looking out of the window-mirror at the wolf-like creature. "Apparently, sir." She couldn't quite believe it herself.

* * *

As soon as the wolf had woken up he had been in pain. Much more than he was supposed to be in. His whole body hurt and it had been a struggle just to stand up. He couldn't remember anything that had happened to make him feel this way, but he did, so he allowed himself time to feel better. He hadn't moved for a while and instead inspected his surroundings with his senses. It smelt of prey. Prey for which he had a deep rooted craving. But, as he further inspected the area he discovered, he could not sense any within his reach.

He could hear many things. Things he was both familiar and unfamiliar with. As though, he somehow knew they belonged there but they sounded different. Slowly, he got up. His body still hurt and he stood up tenderly, but the pain had gone down. Leisurely, he made his way around the edge of the room and it didn't take him long to discover he was trapped. And an anger began to build up within him. How dare _anyone_—let alone prey—trap him. _He_ was the predator, _he_ was the powerful one—_he was an alpha male_.

He growled loudly, yet nothing answered him back. And there was no smell of fear. No one heard him, and if they did they did not fear him. He would change that. Angrily, he resumed circling the prison.

That was when he heard it. A slight add on to the sounds he already heard. Very quiet, but there. Lifting his head, he tried to pinpoint where it had come from and stalked unhurriedly across the area, listening carefully. He heard it again and looked up suddenly, to see another wolf look back. He tensed, ignoring his sore body as it flared in pain. The other wolf copied his action. Eying it warily, he sniffed the air. There was no scent. And if there was no scent, then it was not real. He relaxed a little and focused on listening for the sound again.

He heard it, very faint, but coming from the here, directly in front of him. He growled again, baring his teeth as he looked up at the unreal wolf. The sound stopped. After a pause he heard it again and he started to pace. Stalking a few paces to one side and then turning around, stalking back, all the while studying the thing that from which the sound came, and which showed a fake wolf copying his every move.

In his fury, he would have lunged at it had he the strength. His body was still sore and although he wasn't tired, he didn't want to risk further pain. He growled threateningly again.


	4. The Confirmation

The Confirmation

"I'm hoping it's not permanent, doctor?" Hammond asked as they observed the wolf wondering around the room.

"No, I don't think so sir," she said as she watched the wolf's head lift and an ear swivel in their direction. She hesitated before continuing. "Much of Colonel O'Neill's bio-chemical and genetic makeup is still the same, and eventually, the energy and stimuli that was used to produce such a change would degrade, forcing it to revert back to the original form. I think." She looked at him apologetically.

Hammond merely nodded and they both glanced back at the wolf. She nearly took a step back. The wolf was directly in front of the mirror, staring as though it could see into the room—see her… Its sharp-looking canine-like teeth were bared as it snarled at them. But what caught her attention were its eyes: they were the Colonel's. And yet they weren't. Behind the dark brown eyes that were so familiar, there nothing she could see that was recognizable. Only the basic instincts of a trapped animal.

A shiver ran down her spine, and silently she promised Colonel O'Neill that she would stop this. She would find a cure.

* * *

The wolf lost interest as no more noise issued from behind the fake wolf and he ceased his pacing. For the next while, he carefully scouted the room, following the scents, checking the solidarity of the trap. He found where the prey entered and left, but though he tried for a long while, he could not figure out how because there was no opening that he could see.

Deciding not to bash himself against the walls, for his body continued to be tender and sore even as he walked loosely around and time passed, he focused on memorizing the area. Especially the scents. He would remember those scents, and when he left this trap he would release his anger in revenge against those that did this to him. He would hunt them. They would be his first prey.

He would wait, though. Until this soreness was gone, until he had his full strength. He could stay himself until he knew he would gain the upper hand easily. He was not young, inexperienced or stupid; he knew what he was doing. He knew how to hunt, how to stalk, how to be patient for the sweet taste of death and revenge. When the fury that built up inside him could reign free. He licked his lips.

Lifting his head, he blinked and behind his eyes he saw the lightening sky, the stars fading. Tiredness overtook him suddenly in a wave of disorientation. To steady himself, the wolf lowered halfway to the ground, his belly not quite resting on it. The pain intensified and slowly he staggered to a corner of the room that was partially hidden. Collapsing when he reached there, he curled up tightly, his body tensing, as the hurt within him continued to rise until he was locked inside his mind. Not unconscious, somehow not able to, but hiding, sheltering his mind from the feeling, from being fully aware of what was happening.

* * *

Dr. Fraiser walked into the small observation room and looked through the window-mirror in time to see the large creature stumble into the corner and fall. She felt like she should run in there and make sure he wasn't seriously injured, but she forced herself to stay still, to watch as the animal curled tightly—much as O'Neill had. As it tightened and tensed in what was probably immense pain. Yet no sound came from the wolf.

She bit her lip, delaying her actions. Waiting. And when she saw the reversion begin, physical appearance changing, she picked up the phone from its cradle on the table, hitting the button for the infirmary.

"Medical team to Isolation Room 2." She hung up and then as fast as she could, she ran around to the only door into the room. At some point during the night the nurse she had left to guard the door had been replaced with a marine. He stopped her and gave her a questioning look.

"This is a medical emergency," she snapped, shoving her ID in his face and pushing past him to open the door, he didn't question her again. She didn't blame him, he had been told not to let _anyone_ in and to question even her and the General.

The door slid open and she ran to the far corner where she knew he was, kneeling down beside him. He was only partly changed back, his fur was still receding, his bones still resizing. Getting up again, she swiftly retrieved a needle. Not able to get to the usual spot for taking blood, she went for the back of his hand—which was curled into a fist. She took a small amount and he didn't move at all. Luckily.

Not sure what to do for him, she waited for the medical team to arrive. They should be here in a few seconds. She needed them for when he finished changing. A MRI scan needed to be done as soon as possible.

The medical team arrived just as Colonel O'Neill's form resembled normal, and she asked for a sedative. Just then, he seemed to become conscious. He groaned and she laid a hand gently on his shoulder.

He opened his eyes slowly, then snapped them closed again and let out a small sigh. "What happened?" he managed mumble quietly, his voice hoarse.

"Relax Colonel. We'll take care of everything." She gave him the sedative. "Go back to sleep."

He seemed to settle a bit, so as quickly as they could they got him back onto the bed he had been occupying yesterday.

"I need a MRI scan _now_," she ordered, before heading to her lab with the blood sample. She had to have as much information on what was happening to the Colonel as she could, before the rest of SG-1 got in for the day and Hammond called them all in for a meeting.


	5. The Briefing

The Briefing

"So…" Sam said a tad bit confused as Janet finished her statement on Colonel O'Neill's condition. Now, Samantha Carter, astrophysicist, could usually follow along with Dr. Janet Fraiser's detailed analysis of a problem, she may not have understood _everything_ but she usually got what Janet was getting at. Or at least the gist of it. But listening to Janet's explanation, she _actually_ didn't quite grasp what Janet was trying to tell them, and by the looks of it, neither did Daniel… and she didn't think Teal'c did either, though his expression was neutral. She had a sneaking suspicion that Janet had done that intentionally. But why? If the Colonel was going to die, she had never known Janet to not state it as it was, even if it did hurt them all; nor had she ever known the doctor to skimp out on the details when she didn't understand what was happening. What could be wrong with the Colonel that Janet would not want to tell them? Of course, it did occur to her that maybe this was the best way to describe the problem—but she didn't think so. Janet could always bottom line stuff. And she always did—at least up 'til now.

"Essentially…" General Hammond cut in sharply, looking at the Janet sternly. Janet returned the look with an innocent one and Hammond sighed, seeming to understand why Janet didn't want to bottom line it.

There was a silent pause that seemed to just keep extending.

Finally, just when she was about to break it, the General spoke up: "I'm afraid Colonel O'Neill is off active duty indefinitely."

Daniel cleared his throat then. "Could – could someone please explain to me _why_?" He drew out the word 'why', a sure sign that he was starting to get impatient.

And could she empathize fully with that.

Janet glanced at him and then around at the rest of them with a slightly guilty look, before sighing, looking down at her open folder. "Essentially," she repeated the General's earlier word, "the Colonel is… a werewolf."

Daniel nearly choked on his coffee. "Wha – what?" He looked kind of shocked and disbelieving, maybe a little incredulous.

Her sentiment _exactly_, but she kept quiet. A look similar to Daniel's would do.

Janet started to straighten out the papers in front of her. "I don't like to use that particular word—it's not at all scientific—but unfortunately it is fundamentally true. Last night the Colonel physically changed. His appearance, bone structure… he physically transformed into something – very – wolf-like. And enough of his genome and bio-chemical makeup is mutated so that if given the right stimuli, I think it could happen again." Janet's tone was snappish and she sounded irritated. Sam briefly wondered if her friend had gotten any sleep last night.

There was another silent pause as she and the other two members of SG-1 absorbed this information.

"I don't understand," Sam said finally, desperately trying to grasp the concept of a myth that she had only ever thought about when it was in a horror movie she was watching. Okay, so she dealt with secrets, parasitic beings pretending to be gods, and wormholes and technology that brings someone back to life, stuff that exists mainly in Sci-fi shows. But it's all technology! And if she studied it, she could find out step-by-step how it worked! Janet had said this was a virus… A virus that had gotten into Colonel O'Neill's body and that last night, had apparently turned him into a 'wolf-like' creature. It sounded like… like… like it was off some weird unexplainable mystery show—or something… Where they talk about ghosts and UFO sightings. Well, okay, the last one was a bad example.

"But – uh, it wasn't a full moon last night." Daniel broke through her thoughts with the statement. Everyone looked at him. "It's just, uh, that according to the legend – "

"But it's a full moon tonight," Janet cut in, a look of realization crossing her face.

"You think he'll change again tonight, doctor?" General Hammond asked with concern.

Janet shut the folder in front of her. "I don't know, sir, but I guess we'll find out sooner or later. I haven't figured out what caused the response yet, let alone the exact catalyst for the actual change." Janet leaned back in her chair looking slightly defeated.

General Hammond apparently noticed as well. "Well, doctor, you have an hour until the specialist arrives, I suggest you take a break."

"Yes, sir." Janet replied tiredly.

"Sir," Sam said quickly as an idea occurred, "what if we went back to P97-3X4. Try to find out whatever we can from those people." She glanced at Janet. "You said that the virus might have been transmitted through the bite the Colonel received. They might know something."

Janet nodded. "That's a good idea, sir. It might help if they know anything."

"Is that safe?" Hammond asked.

"Yes. Uh, yes, they were quite friendly," Daniel answered with a slight undertone of embarrassment.

It took Sam a couple seconds to swallow her grin before she turned to Hammond and nodded seriously. Not once while they were there did the people act hostile or dangerous in any way, in fact they were welcomed with open arms, and a very interesting party of sorts. Oh yes, they were 'quite friendly'.

_-One week ago-_

_Sam slowly took the small cup offered to her from the shirtless man kneeling in front of her as she sat in one of the many chairs surrounding a large bonfire, and looked at its contents. The liquid inside was a green-blue colour and looked kind of thick, like syrup. She looked back up at the man kneeling in front of her._

"_What is it?" she asked as politely._

_The man smiled and held up his own cup. "It is tradition," the man, Palshic, answered with a heavy accent all the townspeople had if they weren't speaking their own language, and brought his own cup to his mouth and downed it with one swallow. He then rested his forearm on her knees and reached up, gently pushing the cup she held toward her mouth. "We are a very traditional people. We are very proud of it."_

_Sam didn't really want to insult them, but was still uncertain, so she glanced sideways at Daniel who was sitting nearby. A scantily clad woman was kneeling in front of him as he too looked at his drink. He looked at the woman and opened his mouth to say something when she shook her head raised her own cup and downed in one go. Placing down her cup, she reached up and wrapped her hands around his hand that encircled the cup pushing it closer to his mouth._

"_It is tradition," the woman said softly and seriously, repeating what Palshic said to Sam. "It is a matter of trust between our people. We welcomed you here, trusting what you say is true, that you will not invade us. Now you will trust us. Besides," she added after a pause, "it is very good. Oh, and don't let it touch your tongue."_

_Sam looked down at her drink, took a deep breath, and swallowed the stuff. It was odd. At first it burned her tongue as though someone had stuck a hot poker on it and she coughed a couple times; then it went away and she began to feel this tingling sensation run through her body. It was strong stuff, whatever it was. It made her feel refreshed, and energetic—as though she'd just woken up and taken a nice shower. She decided she liked this stuff._

_Palshic stood up and offered his hand to help her up, she took it and stood. She looked to the side just in time to see Daniel drink his. He too started coughing, and then stopped. The woman kneeling in front of him had placed her hands on his chest, just under the collar bone, and began to slide them down, unhurriedly._

"_Feel it move down," the woman said quietly, slowly, and then reversed the direction of her hands running them back up his chest. "Feel how it affects you. It is nice, yes?"_

"_Hey kids, having fun?" Colonel O'Neill came up, with a cup of the same drink in his hand._

"_Yes, sir, but I think Daniel's having the most." She grinned as she said that loud enough for Daniel to hear._

_Daniel quickly cleared his throat and got up as the woman did. "I was just… uh…"_

"_Following the tradition?" Sam finished for him with a helpful tone. He blushed slightly, and she suppressed an uncharacteristic giggle, grinning. It crossed her mind briefly that the green-blue drink might already have had an effect on her._

"_ColonelO'Neill, DanielJackson, MajorCarter," Teal'c greeted as he came up to them, "this beverage is most satisfactory." He held up a small cup._

"_What is that, your fourth, fifth?" O'Neill said raising his eyebrows._

"_Fourth," Teal'c replied firmly._

"_Ah." O'Neill gave an I'm-not-gonna-comment look._

"_O'Neill, did you not just finish your third?" Teal'c retorted, wiping off the Colonel's smug expression._

_He looked down at his empty cup. "Yee-ah." He shrugged._

_The rest of the night had been interesting. The leader of the town of Iryshrow, Maeshrin, came and started talking to a reluctant O'Neill, introducing him to different people as he dragged him away. Maeshrin was a good leader and friendly, but he hadn't talked with any member of SG-1 other than Colonel O'Neill besides the initial introductions. Daniel had said that this culture 'circled around hierarchy within the single town', that everyone apparently had a specific status. Like the military—only more complicated, she found as she listened to Daniel trying to explain it to O'Neill earlier before the dinner they'd had at Maeshrin's house._

_Later, she saw the Colonel sitting around the fire, drinking a different type of alcohol talking to Teal'c._

_Daniel had gone off to talk to… someone, about the wall that stood about twenty feet away from the fire, furthest from the town, near the surrounding forest. The wall was covered in pictures that seemed to tell their history, they had been told on the tour they had taken of the small town. Many of the pictures were gruesome and slightly disturbing, but she could see the story—it was like looking at a picture book._

_She, herself, had gone to talk to Kimshal, who knew about most of the technology in the town—which was a surprising amount. Apparently, they used the Stargate often and traded with a few other species on different planets for technology as well as with the nearby towns so that technology spread throughout the continent. The Lyacanthes, as was the name of there race, were very advanced in some ways, medical science, and not so in others, weaponry, and there trading system with other towns and through the Stargate was very complicated—that was mostly due to the fact that there was no higher government, the only times the separate towns interacted was to trade._

_After talking with Kimshal for a while, he had offered to teach her a traditional dance and she had agreed. All in all it had been a rather fun night._

-Present time-

"You leave in an hour then," Hammond said, ending the briefing, "Dismissed and good luck."

The three members of SG-1 and Dr. Fraiser stood up. As they left Sam walked beside Janet.

Janet glanced at her. "I hope you find something Sam, I really do."

She nodded. "Me too. Do you think I could visit him?"

Janet shook her head. "He's being kept sedated, he's in a lot of pain. I'm sorry."

"Okay, talk to you later," she said as she turned down a different hall than her friend.

"Bye, Sam, good luck."


	6. The Visit

The Visit

Daniel was silent as he left the conference room. He should have _known_. _Known_ that there was a possibility that the pictures and history weren't all metaphors. No, they had talked about the history as though it were real, as though they believed everything that the engravings showed was true, and he hadn't asked. He _hadn't asked_. How could he not ask? He was supposed to be the archeologist/anthropologist, the one that knew what questions to ask to ascertain what kind of people they were dealing with. And _he_ hadn't _done that_.

Then again, they hadn't volunteered the information either, but it was all there. All the easily see-able clues and hints that led to the questions to ask. But no. He just assumed that it was metaphorical, or that the truth had something to do with wolves—hadn't Lenshol said something about that? He thought for a minute.

Yes, he did, and so had Airsha when she was giving the tour. Something about their wolves helping out when they had revolted against the Goa-ould that ruled them. But still… he should've at least been suspicious.

Now, Jack was… he was… a werewolf… Daniel shook his head. That was an odd thought. He had accepted the fact that Janet had seen Jack change into a wolf, therefore making him a werewolf. Yet…

"DanielJackson," a familiar voice came from behind him. He turned and saw Teal'c walking up the corridor toward him.

"Uh, yeah?" Quickly, he glanced around him trying to figure out where he was—he guessed somewhere near the mess hall.

"May I join you?" Teal'c gestured toward the door that was, in fact, the mess hall door.

"Sure," he answered slowly, his thoughts beginning to distract him again. They walked in silence, and he went back to his former train of thought.

Jack. A werewolf. It was still hard to accept. He wondered how much of the information in the myths were true. There were many different takes on the subject, granted he hadn't actually researched much on comparing the different myths about werewolves—not really his subject of interest—but he did know a bit. And he was definitely going to look it up now.

He hoped that the people of Iryshrow would be willing and able to help them. They should be: it was one of them that bit Jack and turned him into a werewolf.

"DanielJackson, are you going to eat that?" Teal'c asked, indicating Daniel's frozen yogurt. He shook his head and Teal'c took it.

"Do – what do you think about the Lyacanthes?" Daniel asked curiously, looking at his friend across the table.

"They seemed most friendly," the Jaffa answered steadily, eating his food.

"So – so you don't think they did this on purpose?"

"Indeed, I do not."

"Why?"

"They expressed many times to O'Neill that they wished to become allies and friends with the Tau'ri. O'Neill believed this feeling was genuine, as do I."

Daniel was silent for a moment. Teal'c was right, not once had he felt the least bit unwelcome. They willingly told about themselves when asked—though obviously not everything—and were interested in Earth, its history with the Goa-ould and the recent war. They were friendly, and that was why they were going back there now—well, in half an hour, anyway.

Finally, he nodded and started picking at his food.

_

* * *

_

_-A week ago-_

_It had taken them nearly four hours of following the well worn, recently used path before they saw any sign of the village. The path had lead directly from the Stargate and had signs of both recent use and often use, so they decided, without much other choice, to see if there was anything at the end of it. It weaved back and forth through a thick forest, zigzagging, almost excessively, with no foreseeable reason. The whole area was basically flat, with only a slight uphill tilt once in a while._

_The sky was a clear, bright blue and they could hear the birds in the trees. After a while, they slowed down a little, making the walk feel even more like they were all just taking a morning stroll through a forest on a warm summer day, instead of being on another planet trying to find out whether there _was_ locals, and whether they were friendly or not._

_They heard the village before they saw it—actually three whole zigzags before they saw it._

"_Hey, look at this," Daniel said when they had finally emerged from the forest to be confronted with the town. He kneeled down in front of what looked like a square marble gravestone standing up right, about three feet high, it had a little engraved picture at the top. "Interesting…"_

_Colonel O'Neill walked over to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder at the picture. "Yes," he agreed with his usual sarcasm, "they like art. Dark, morbid art."_

_Daniel ran his finger over the little engraving. It was a picture of a large beast-like thing attacking what looked like a human, ripping it to shreds and eating its… insides. There was a moon that looked to be full, along with stars and a back ground of trees. He couldn't quite place the style of engravings—it seemed to be of mixed origin. There was no writing on the stone at all and no colour, just a simple picture._

"_Okay, time to go. If the other kids play nice then you can come back and look later." With that Jack turned and headed down the path toward the village, Teal'c beside him._

_Daniel got up and both he and Sam followed a couple steps behind, glancing at the passing streetlamps and picture stones that stood on either side of the wide path, interchanging every ten feet or so._

_When they reached the village they were greeted almost immediately by a man who looked a little over thirty with dark, nearly shoulder length hair. He held out his hand for the Jack to shake, smiling warmly._

"_E' zine yao no' 'fore. Di' yao kim sphore tha Jear-ny Gate?"_

_There was a hesitant pause, in which Jack took the offered hand and smiled as well, though clearly not understanding what he was saying. And truth be told, Daniel didn't have a clue either, though he searched thoroughly for something similar, he came up empty handed. It didn't sound the least bit familiar._

"_Daniel?" Jack said, glancing sideways at him._

_He looked at Jack and shrugged. "I think he said, 'gate'?"_

_At that word the man nodded patiently, still smiling. "Jear-ny Gate."_

"_Jear-ny Gate?" Daniel drew a circle in the air with his finger and the man nodded again. Then he smiled and nodded at the man agreeably. "Yes, we came through the Jear-ny Gate."_

_This seemed to satisfy the man as then, he stretched his arms wide and bowed slightly. "'e'kem thine. E'm Tolshen." He pointed to himself during the last word signifying that that was his name._

_Daniel quickly introduced them but before he could say anything else a woman came up beside Tolshen. He spoke rapidly to her for a few seconds and she nodded. He turned back to them, bowed, gestured to the light-haired woman next to him and then left._

_The woman smiled at them and held out a hand for Jack to shake, which he took. "Welcome. Tolshen says you come through the Gate?" And although there was still a strong accent to her words, she was understandable._

"_Yes," O'Neill answered firmly since she seemed to be talking to him directly._

"_My name is Airsha. Welcome to Iryshrow of Phelan. I shall take you to Maeshrin, our leader, if you wish." She smiled warmly and gestured for them to follow._

-Present time-

"He has already changed then?" Maeshrin asked sounding concerned. After reaching the village, it had only taken the three members of SG1 a few minutes to explain the situation to the man.

Daniel nodded, slightly worried at Maeshrin's concern.

"This is unfortunate," Maeshrin announced solemnly. "His body has not yet had the time to prepare itself. He would be in great pain."

"Do you know how to stop it?" Sam asked.

Maeshrin shook his head. "There is nothing that can stop the change from happening ever again, but we can prevent it for one night." Maeshrin opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a small clear pouch that was filled with a yellow-green substance. He placed it on the desk. "Give him this, here,"—he pointed to the side of his neck—"and he must be awake when the night comes."

Teal'c took the pouch and they all stood.

"In two days, I shall send Reshna to explain what causes this…" Maeshrin then added gravely, "Make sure you do this though, or your Colonel may not survive the change again."


	7. The Medicine

The Medicine

Ow… ow… _ow_. There really wasn't anything like waking up with half one's body numb from painkillers and the other half in _plenty _of pain. Absolutely nothing. And his head hurt just thinking about it. No, wait, it hurt anyway. Damn it, there were just sometimes drug induced sleep was really, really nice. _Right now_ would be one of them. Yes, sleep… where pain can't reach you.

"Colonel?"

Jack winced at the sound and then groaned as the slight movement sent bolts through his head. No, sleep would be really nice right now, Doc, honestly. Just need some more of those lovely drugs of yours. Lots, actually. Please?

"Colonel, you need to wake up. I can't let you sleep any longer," she said quietly, but sternly. She's stopped moving, standing next to his shoulder. He could hear the soft rustling of the papers she was probably looking through on her clipboard.

He opened his eyes slowly, and then quickly snapped them shut again. "Hey Doc, could the lights _not_ be so bright?" the scratchy sound of his voice really ruined the crankiness he was trying to portray—portray? He was spending way too much time around Daniel—so he added on a groan for good effect.

"Sorry, sir, but the lights don't go lower unless they're off," she said kind of briskly. She was probably writing something down. Yep, he could hear the pen on paper.

He opened one eye part way and looked up at her, the light still stinging. She was standing a couple feet away and as predicted he could see her writing on the clipboard.

"So, what's up, Doc?" he asked, his voice still gravelly. He tried to clear it.

She glanced up at him. "I need to give you a shot." With that she began to turn away.

Faster than he thought his sore muscles could move, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. She stopped and looked back at him.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" He watched her steadily, doing his best to push the pain to the back of his mind. She hesitated briefly, before turning back and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He let go of her wrist.

"Let me give you this shot sir, and then I'll explain it to you," she said sincerely and he nodded just enough for her to see, the movement yet again making his head pound. He closed his eyes once more.

She rested her (as usual) cold hands on his forehead and tilted his head to the side gently. "Sir, I'm going to give you the injection here." She tapped the side of his neck a couple of times and then stuck the needle in. He decided right then that he preferred the needle-in-the-arm way. He kept still, trying not to think about the shot at all.

Barred from thinking about that, his brain choose to start thinking about his sore body, and to his surprise, he noticed that there were no other needles sticking out of him; actually, there was nothing attached to him, no monitors or… anything. At all. That was odd. He opened his eyes just as the Doc pulled the needle out, and glanced around the room.

From what he could see, without moving his head too much, there was nothing around him. Nothing. Very slowly, he lifted his head so that he could see the wall on the opposite side of where Fraiser stood. There wasn't any machinery to obstruct his view. Wasn't that where the heart monitor usually was? Resting his head back on the very nice soft pillow, he turned to look the other direction, to the wall behind the Doc. Again nothing—except her—prevented him from seeing the wall.

"Did I miss something?" he asked, looking back at her, and making a very conscious decision that he wasn't going to move his head anymore.

"What, sir?" Doc Fraiser looked up from the clipboard she was holding, yet again.

"Do you ever put that thing down?" he asked incredulously, glancing briefly at her clipboard.

She looked down at it and then smiled at him. "No, not unless I have to, sir."

He rolled his eyes. "Figures." He paused, and then remembered his train of thought. "So… you emptied the room? Did you find a cure?"

"Uh, no sir. This is a temporary inhibitor. We removed everything from the room for your safety. How do you feel, sir?" She looked at him questioningly—pen at the ready of course.

"Sore. Headache," he stated in the most irritated voice he could muster. "Now, _what is wrong with me?_" he enunciated each word. He didn't really care what the Doc said she needed to know, from here on out he wouldn't answer anymore of her questions until she answered his.

Sighing, she placed the clipboard down on a tray that was hidden behind her and leaned lightly against the edge of the bed, looking down at him. "Sir, I'm afraid the alterations the virus did to your genome had more impact on your body than we originally thought. It seems that given the right amount of stimuli your body physically changes… Sir, do you remember anything from last night?"

Jack would have shook his head under normal circumstances but he decided against it. "No. What do you mean 'changes'?" He didn't think he liked what she was getting at, not that he thought he'd really like the news _anyway_… But there was always that hope.

She took a deep breath. "Sir, you're a werewolf."

He stared at her blankly for a second, allowing this information to sink in. And then his expression turned suspicious. "_What?_"

"Yes sir, I'm serious. Last night, you went through certain physical changes that ended with you looking like some sort of… dog or wolf… We're still not sure what exactly caused this reaction, we're working on it sir." She looked at him concernedly.

He was still trying to allow this new revelation to actually sink in. He would really like this to be some sort of joke… or dream… or anything but the truth. But he had the distinct feeling that she wasn't lying, that she wouldn't lie about something like this, and he hurt way too much for this to be a dream. He's dealed with a _lot_ of weird stuff involving the Stargate so he could quite possibly be a werewolf. _Aside_ from the fact that it was a _fictional_ being, myth, thing… Key word here being 'fictional', as in fake, not real, not… whatever, just… not… real! And he told her as much.

"A werewolf?" he asked incredulously. "With the whole full moon thing and everything?" Okay, that question didn't come out quite right.

She nodded and even smiled a little bit. "'With the whole full moon thing and everything'."

He suppressed an almost automatic nod, when suddenly, his whole body erupted in pain. It felt like it was ripping him apart from the inside out, and he curled up tightly on his side, letting out a small groan. It rang in his ears, and throbbed through his body, and the few seconds it lasted felt like forever. Replacing the pain that nearly vanished as fast as it began, was an oh-so-pleasant feeling of nausea.

Grabbing the edge of the bed, he managed to pull himself over it, extending his legs so that when his feet hit the floor, he was in a semi-upright position. With one hand still gripping the bed, his whole body shook with the effort to keep him standing momentarily distracting him from his need to barf. Unfortunately, it didn't last long and he pressed the forearm of his free hand against his stomach. He suddenly became aware of the Doc's hand on his shoulder and glanced sideways at her. He tried to focus on her voice as the whole room tilted one way and then the other.

He grimaced and closed his eyes, spitting out the word "bucket" in answer to whatever the Doc had said. He was sure it was something along the lines of a concerned 'what's wrong?' type question. He could feel the Doc's hand disappear from his shoulder, and then it was back and something cold was pressing against the back of his free arm.

And then, abruptly, everything seemed to stop. The pain and nausea in his body almost completely gone and he felt a restless rush of energy run through him like a jolt of electricity. He pushed the bucket away and backed away from the presence beside him, trying to orientate himself.

"_What the hell?_"


	8. The Acceptance

The Acceptance

Jack could hear his heart pound against his chest and his shallow, quick breaths as though his ears were doing the breathing. A wall pressed firmly against his back effectively stopped him from moving, and he focused on the cool cement, using it to try to regain control over himself.

When the nausea had suddenly disappeared, it felt like everything was suddenly rushing in on him. The room, the whole base was suddenly oppressive and the rush of adrenaline, made him momentarily forget he where he was, focusing entirely on the near panic the sensations were causing.

Damn it! He took a breath and ran his hands over his face, leaning heavily against the wall. Where the hell was this coming from? What the hell was going on with him? He stilled his hands as they ran through his hair, and took a deep steadying breath while he tried to think clearly through the anger that was beginning to grow inside him at the complete lack of control he had over himself.

He _really_ wanted to know _exactly_ what the hell was going on.

Jack allowed his hands to fall to his sides and opened his eyes cautiously in case the light stung. It didn't. And he found himself facing a concerned look from the Doc—which only seemed to make the anger grow.

She looked about to say something, but he cut her off. "I want out."

He strode past her and walked up to the door of the isolation room.

"Sir?" she asked following him.

He didn't glance at her, continuing to look at the only exit in the room. "_Get. Me. Out," _he said through gritted teeth. He had the urge to punch the door, or hit it, but suppressed it, settling for clenching both his fists.

"Sir, I really can't –"

She stopped when he turned to look at her, his forehead pressed lightly against the metal.

She sighed, almost tiredly, and swiped her card through the sensor. "I'm coming with you, though," she stated as a condition as the door opened.

He didn't respond, just walked out of the room.

There was a guard on duty, which Jack ignored completely, walking right past him when the marine tried to stop him. Fraiser intervened, and quickly told the guard to give a message or something to Hammond. Jack really wasn't listening. He didn't care.

He just needed to get out. Away from the surreal happenings of the SGC. Away from the confining sub-levels and the weirdness that went on. He wasn't going to go AWOL, he wouldn't leave the grounds. Even though he was beyond angry—beyond pissed off, actually—he would get himself under control and wait for the explanation. And it had better be a damn good one.

The elevator doors opened for him then and he stepped inside, Fraiser right behind him. Purposely, he leaned against the wall next to the phone and crossed his arms, glaring straight ahead of him. Yes, he was preventing her from using the phone. He'd be damned if he was going to let her trap him in a room no bigger than a closet.

She didn't try to use it though, she just kept studying him with her eyes, silently. He glanced down at her briefly and she met his gaze calmly, as though she was trying to comfort him without saying anything. She wasn't afraid of him, and for some reason he felt she should be.

He shifted his head to look at the ascending numbers and took a deep breath. The numbers changed and suddenly the elevator stopped. He didn't move a muscle, tensing slightly as the doors slid open. He wasn't sure why, it was almost instinctive.

Daniel entered with an open book in his hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack could see Daniel glance at first Fraiser, then him. He reached to press the number of the floor he wanted but the Doc stopped him.

"I need you to do something for me, Daniel," she said hurriedly, putting her foot between the closing doors to keep them open.

He looked at her curiously. "What is it?"

"Go with the Colonel. I'll be up in a few minutes, just don't let him leave the grounds." And then she slipped out of the doors which were trying to close for the second time.

Jack could feel Daniel's eyes on him and he tensed a little more, his anger flaring. He felt as though Daniel was accusing him of something or… arguing with him. He clenched his hands again and determinedly stared at the changing numbers. It made no sense, the rational part of his mind protested, yet he felt defensive which pissed him right off.

Daniel didn't say anything the entire way up, and Jack was thankful for that. The archaeologist sometimes didn't know when to shut up and luckily this wasn't one of those times. Jack tried, unsuccessfully, to rein in his anger on the way up, but it wasn't until he actually got outside the complex that he found himself relaxing a little.

He took a breath of the cool evening air and sighed, feeling a tightening in his chest he didn't even realize was there, loosen. He looked up at the rapidly darkening blue sky feeling more like himself than he had in days. The anger was still there but it seemed to be easing off, slowly… Very slowly.

Jack felt another rush of restlessness and looked around him; at the tunnel entrance and then the gate in front of him—yeah, okay so he _thought_ he wasn't going to leave the base, but at that moment he didn't want anything more than to walk through that gate and go home.

"Jack?"

He ignored Daniel's voice and continued to walk toward the gate.

Daniel pulled up beside him nervously. "Uh, Jack?"

Again he didn't say a word, he was over half way there… Maybe…

Just then, Daniel stepped in front of him, forcing Jack to stop and to focus his attention on the other man.

"Janet said you can't go off base. I think…" Daniel was cut off as Jack narrowed his eyes and took a challenging step forward. The younger man hesitated, knowing he wouldn't be able stop Jack if he decided he really wanted to go.

He would try anyway.

Jack eyed the archaeologist as he squared his shoulders, looking back at him determinedly, and took another step forward. Daniel reached out a hand to stop him, when suddenly, he growled. He… growled… _Growled?_ Jack blinked in surprise as Daniel's eyes went wide and he pulled his hand back.

"Jack? Did, uh – did you just… growl?" Daniel watched him cautiously, unsure what to do. He didn't want to cause a fight between them by saying or doing something that might set him off—he was doubtful of Jack's mental state—and so, he didn't move or say anything more; continuing to block the path to the gate, but otherwise allowing the older man his space.

He had. He had _growled_. That _definitely_ was _not_ normal. He sounded like a dog for crying out loud! The surprise and confusion cleared his mind and he remembered Fraiser's explanation as to what was wrong with him.

He turned away from Daniel with a sigh, and walked to the side of the tunnel entrance to the trail he knew was there. Despite his newly regained control, he still had excess energy and didn't want to go back in the base. He could hear the younger man follow behind him and paused, waiting until he caught up.

They walked for a few minutes before Daniel broke the, admittedly, somewhat awkward silence.

"Did Janet, uh, explain…?" Daniel trailed off, not knowing quite how to ask, and wishing afterward, he hadn't tried.

Jack glanced briefly sideways at the archaeologist who was watching him curiously and uncertainly. "Yes."

There was a short pause. Jack liked one word responses, if used right, they can really throw people off balance.

"Do you believe her?" Daniel probed quietly, wanting to know what Jack thought of all this, how he was handling it. If he didn't believe this…

Now that threw _him_ off guard. He turned to look at Daniel, making sure he kept his face blank. He studied the younger man's face for a moment then looked forward once more and shrugged noncommittally, picking up his pace a little.

"Come on Jack," Daniel said, starting to sound a little irritated. "It's not that hard of a question. Yes or no?"

He didn't pause, he didn't slow his pace or even glance at the younger man, but he did think about it. Did he believe Fraiser? …Yes. But…

He kept silent for a few more moments, trying to think it over again. It didn't work and Daniel broke the silence once again. Did no one ever tell him that 'silence was bliss'?

"I guess it's no then…" the archaeologist said quietly. He was concerned for his friend, but he wasn't an easy person to get to open up.

Jack spun around angrily. "A goddamned werewolf, Daniel! _Me!_ A were – wolf. Yes, I believe Faiser, but… _Damn it!_ Werewolves are fake! They aren't _real!_"

Daniel looked at him a little hesitantly. "But they are real Jack, maybe not here on Earth, but the myths must have come from somewhere."

Frustrated, he threw up his hands and turned around, running them through his hair. He started walking again.

Daniel jogged up beside him. "We – we went back to P97-3X4. They said they would help."

"Do they have a cure?" Jack asked offhandedly, already guessing the answer.

"Uh, no…"

"So, what are they gonna do then? Teach me to howl at the moon?"

He could practically feel Daniel's glare. "Jack!"

Sighing, he slowed down a little, turning the brisk walk into an almost leisurely pace. God, he wished he wasn't here right now…

"What, Daniel?"

The younger man hesitated for an instant before answering. "They, uh… They're going to come here. Tell us as much information about…" He paused trying to think of the right word, "…this…" and one, inconveniently, not coming to mind, "as possible."

Jack raised his eyebrows a little. "When?"

"Two days?"

He nodded once, accepting, and they both fell silent. Jack felt way better out here than he had at any point during the last couple days inside the SGC. Well, at least any of the times he was conscious… It was almost as if he felt more at home, more comfortable out here. Again, the feeling didn't quite feel like it was his, though. Almost like it was coming from him, but a part of him was completely against it… or something. Whatever. Anyway, he was all for the camping and nature adventure stuff… He liked the look of green forests and blue and starry skies, but this was different. He wasn't ever quite this—what's the right word? Close? Attached? …Something like that…—to it. It felt almost… natural to be here.

Daniel glanced sideways at Jack for the second time in maybe, ten minutes. Jack seemed like he had calmed down a lot since his angry rant, but now the archeologist was curious as to what was going on in the other man's head. He wondered what it would be like to actually be faced with what Jack was facing, and what side effects were affecting him that they didn't know about. It had occurred to Daniel at some point that Jack may not have been in full control of what he was doing up until he had growled. Which seemed to have surprised both of them, not just him.

Suddenly, Daniel jerked himself out of his thoughts and looked around, it was getting dark even with the full moon and lights from the compound. "Shouldn't we, uh, turn around… go back. Janet might be waiting for us."

Jack glanced at him and shrugged calmly. "Nah."

Deciding that he should be a little bit more in control of this situation since he was the mentally stable one of the two of them, he stopped walking. "We should go back," he said firmly.

The colonel turned around as Daniel stopped, but continued to walk backward along the path. He raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?" He smirked a little. "'Cause you're not gettin' there any faster then."

Daniel looked at him confused. "What?"

"The trail, Daniel. It loops around," he said as though he were explaining something to a slow child. He turned around again as the younger man caught up to him. "We're almost back where we started."

"Oh." And with a slight shrug, made there way out.

* * *

A/N Thanks to my friend Sara for her help on this chapter :-D


	9. The Noise

The Noise

As they left the forest, they weren't at all surprised to be confronted with a specific, and very impatient looking, MD. Dr. Janet Fraiser was waiting with her arms crossed and a frown on her face, under the exterior compound lights. She glared at them as she walked toward them, checking them both over with her eyes and then allowing a little relief to show as she found no one visibly injured.

Jack smirked cheekily. "Hey Doc. Looking for someone?"

Fraiser rolled her eyes. "You sound like you're feeling better."

He shrugged as she picked up his wrist to check his pulse rate. There was silence for a few seconds as she looked at her watch and then, nodding to herself, released him.

"Am I alive?" Jack asked sarcastically.

"I don't know Colonel, you tell me." A slight smirk touched her face, as they started walking toward the tunnel entrance. "So, where did you go?" she asked, turning to Daniel.

"Just, uh, around… on a trail," he said a little guiltily. He knew perfectly well that he hadn't been in control for longer then a minute since they stepped out of the elevator, and that if anything had happened, it would probably have been his fault because of it.

"Well, you were gone for a half-an-hour. I was just about to send a team out looking for you," she said sternly.

He avoided her gaze, looking away from her, and stopped dead. "Jack?" Daniel said as he noticed the spot where the Colonel was walking a moment before was now empty. Janet immediately turned around. And of course, O'Neill wasn't there.

It took them a minute before they spotted him. He was standing out of the way of the tunnel, where the lights couldn't quite reach him, staring into the forest intently. They glanced at each other, and then jogged quickly up beside him. He didn't even seem to notice.

"Sir, are you –" she cut herself off when O'Neill raised his hand in a signal to be quiet.

After a few minutes he spoke without taking his eyes off the forest. "Did you guys hear that?" he asked quietly.

"Hear what?" Daniel looked into the forest with a frown of concentration.

"It's stopped now. Y'didn't hear that?" Jack glanced at him.

"No…." the archaeologist said slowly, raising his eyebrows.

Janet shook her head slightly when he looked at her, the concern growing on her face. "What did you hear?"

Jack turned back to the forest and shrugged, not sure how to explain what he had just heard. It sounded sorta like… O'Neill straightened slightly. "That. Do you hear that?"

The other two fell silent as they listened, before Fraiser spoke up.

"Sir, I can't hear anything. Maybe…" She trailed off as the Colonel took a slow step forward. She went to stop him when he turned to the side, his eyes still on the forest, and began to pace. Not in a fast impatient manner, but almost at a leisurely speed… except that everything about it wasn't at all leisurely-looking. It was steady, almost stealthy, his whole body looked tense and alert, like he was ready to spring at any moment, his entire focus on the forest. It reminded her uncannily of the night before: the wolf, (impossibly) watching her through the mirror.

It sent a shiver down her spine, and she reached out, grabbing him by the arm. He whipped around, jerking his arm out of her grasp and… growled. She blinked in surprise and nearly stepped backward, just barely managing to catch herself. She let her hand fall back at her side and watched him cautiously, forcing herself to remain still and calm.

"Damn it," the Colonel swore under his breath.

"Jack?" Daniel said quietly, allowing only a hint of concern into his voice.

The older man seemed to suddenly come out of whatever thoughts had been going on in his head and he sighed. "Daniel," he said, sounding a little tired now.

She checked him over again with her eyes, nothing was visibly wrong, so she put the reaction down to being startled. "Sir, I think maybe we should go inside," she said as though he hadn't just growled at her. She'd been an MD here for too long for something like that to rattle her for long.

He looked back at her stubbornly and crossed his arms. "Just a few more minutes, Doc. Please?"

She shook her head. "I think it's for the best, sir."

The Colonel seemed to fight an internal battle for a few seconds, and he took a couple steps back before he grimaced, and her hand—that had snaked inside her lab coat pocket to grip a 2-way radio—relaxed a little.

"Bah," he snapped in frustration at no one in particular. He brought up his hand and rubbed his eyes with his fingers and thumb, before pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing.

Janet relaxed her hand completely, and let go of the 2-way radio. Slowly, she took a few steps closer to him. "Colonel?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," he said, and he definitely sounded tired. He started walking toward the tunnel without looking at the others, distracted by his thoughts.

Janet slowly went through what had just happened and began to plan out a series of questions she would ask him, as soon as they got back to the isolation room. She had been waiting to ask about what he was feeling all day and she was more worried now then she had been. From the MRI and blood tests done on him by herself or Dr. Layr, the specialist that had come that morning, indicated the virus was still affecting him and while he was unconscious, she could only guess at what side-effects that might have.

Daniel was silent for a few minutes as they walked. He was getting more and more concerned about his friend. It was almost as though he had had a difficult argument with himself… Himself? Could Jack, even though he's still human looking, have the instincts of a wolf inside? Did that make any sense? …Yes, it (kind of) did, come to think of it. He had been researching werewolves since he had come home from Phelan today, and a few stories say that once someone has become the wolf, it's always inside them. He wondered briefly how that worked, was there always a voice at the back of their mind telling them what to do? To go kill things? Or was it something to do with instincts? Did their instincts change? Or become stronger, maybe?

Something crossed his mind and he glanced at the older man. "Jack, what about that sound?"

Jack glanced at him and shrugged. "Probably just an animal," he said, he didn't really care about the sound anymore. He was far more concerned about not being in control of his actions. He had wanted to leave. But why? And where?

Away. He wanted away. But 'away' from what? Who?

Here. Away from here. He wasn't sure where the answer came from, but that was it. Away from being locked up, underground, confined.

He stepped into the elevator and leaned against the back wall, closing his eyes. He wanted away from here. No, not _him_ but… whatever these feelings were, they wanted out—and what the hell was that noise!

He opened his eyes and looked around the small descending metal box. Neither Daniel nor Fraiser were talking, and there was absolutely nothing that he could see that could be making that noise. Where the hell was it coming from?

Slowly, he stood up straight and walked to the corner across from him. He stood there for a minute listening, and then moved across to stand beside the Doc. Nothing changed. Damn. It was starting to—no, make that _already_ grating on his nerves. He went back to the position he started at and leaned against the wall again. He continued to listen trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. And slowly he looked up. It was coming from the ceiling of the elevator. What the heck?

He studied the roof for a minute and then reached over and hit the emergency stop. The elevator stopped, and so did the noise.

"Uh Jack? What are you doing?" Daniel asked curiously.

Jack glanced at the younger man, attempting a nonchalant look and shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing." He reached over and pressed the button to release the elevator.

And damn it, the noise started again. Jack reached over and hit the emergency stop again.

"Sir?" Fraiser asked, watching her patient closely.

"I think…" he paused, and then restarted his sentence. "I heard something."

"What?" the Doc asked in almost a forced calm, humouring someone type way.

"The elevator squeaks," he said as though it was obvious. They looked back at him blankly, and he sighed irritatedly. "You didn't hear it!"

"Um, no…"

"Sir, would you like it if we took a different elevator?" she asked almost gently. She didn't want to have another argument about what he was or wasn't hearing, what she wanted was to get back down to where she could try and find out what was happening—in a safe, confined area.

"Yes," he said a little crankily, and hit the button that opened the doors. Stepping out, he made his way down a plain looking hall with doors on each side, to the nearest elevator, his friends following behind.

* * *

Jack was going _nuts_! What was with the noise! First it was the bush, then the squeaking elevator, then when they got off at this level, there was buzzing. When he walked past solid metal doors he could hear talking, let alone regular wood doors. The whole stupid place made noise! Even the isolation room—which was supposed to be sound proof—made enough noise to drive him up the wall! The humming from something electrical in the walls, and the stupid lights made an annoying buzz sometimes. If he walked over to the door, he could hear people talking as they walked passed, although he'd have to focus to hear what they were saying it wasn't _too_ difficult to make out.

He started pacing; now more then ever did he want out and it had nothing to do with the confinement.

Fraiser suddenly walked in again, the door opening and closing allowing her entry. He didn't stop moving though, ignoring her in favour of trying to block out all sounds. Which really, really wasn't working well.

"Colonel?" the Doc asked after a few seconds of watching him silently. Once they'd reached the isolation room, she had left saying she's be back in a few minutes, probably ready to ask some weird questions he had no idea what the use of it would be.

"Can I ask you some questions?"

And here it came. He turned around, crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, nodding slightly for her to go ahead.

She leaned against the bed, the only piece of furniture or appliance in the room. "How do you feel, sir?"

"Fine," he snapped, wanting to pace but at the same time not really wanting to move. He opted to stay still for a few more minutes.

"Physically or mentally?" She looked him curiously.

He looked at her sceptically and then exploded. "I'm going _nuts_!" He said loudly through gritted teeth, gesticulating as he talked. "I'm going _insane_!" He started pacing again, trying once again to ignore the sounds.

"Why?" Fraiser said, placating.

He turned to face her, his expression half annoyed and half angry. "_Everything… makes… noise_!"

Suddenly, realisation hit Janet. She knew enough about animals that humans had relatively poor hearing, that many animals had a far better sense of hearing. Again the 'werewolf' aspect came into play, not only did he turn into a creature that resembled a wolf, but he was beginning to develop attributes akin to the wolf species. A good sense of hearing may only be the beginning.

She shook her head and looked over at the pacing Colonel. He really did look like he was about to climb up the walls. "Sir, would you like some earplugs?"

He glanced over at her. "Yes!" he said forcefully.


	10. The Explanation

The Explanation

Jack groaned and turned his head to look over at the clock that was now sitting on a tray beside the bed. 0615. Morning. Finally. He started to sit up slowly, and then lay back down when his head throbbed painfully. Damn. When did he get a headache? He rubbed a hand over his face and shifted into a more comfortable position. He had gotten about 3 hours and 20 minutes of sleep last night, so if he couldn't move he might as well try and get some more.

After a few minutes he got frustrated and gave up. He didn't feel so hot—kind of like a hangover or a slow death by dehydration, not that there's much difference—and the more he moved the worse it got.

The Doc had come in with earplugs after she had played her game of twenty thousand questions. Unfortunately they _sucked_. Oh, they managed to block out all the _outer_ sounds just fine, but he really didn't like to listen to himself breathe for hours on end. It was just as bad as listening to humming and buzzing!

He had been able to handle going with out anything for a while when Daniel came in with some magazines and comic books he had managed to find in Jack's office. He had fallen asleep but then woke up not-too-long later to some beeping sound—he still hadn't figured where the hell that had come from—and that was how it was pretty much the whole night. At some point though one of the night nurses had come in with some cotton, which helped to soften the sounds enough that he didn't end up going completely around the bend.

Jack sighed, gritted his teeth and pushed himself up into a sitting position. Immediately, he hunched over slightly, pressing his thumb and fingers of one hand to his temples, covering his eyes.

Damn, that hurt! He relaxed after a few seconds when the throbbing died down and looked around the near empty room. The lights were on their lowest, but they seemed to be getting progressively brighter the longer he was in here. He closed his eyes and sighed.

Suddenly, he pushed himself off the bed, and bored out of his mind, started to slowly circle the room. When he was at the furthest corner from the bed, his back to the door, he paused, leaning against the wall. For some reason, it seemed a tiny bit quieter there than anywhere else. He slid down the cement until he was sitting, and stretched out, crossing his ankles. Every second he spent in here he hated it more and more.

Just then he heard the door swish open, the machinery activated by that adding to the buzzing already in the room. He didn't react, though, he was way too tired to make his annoyance known to whoever had entered.

He recognized the sound of Fraiser's shoes on the floor—she had been in and out a few times early last night, checking up on him. She came over to him and sat down against the adjacent wall near him, her clipboard in hand as always, but she wasn't writing on it.

Jack glanced over at her after a few seconds when she didn't say anything. "You look tired," he said raising his eyebrows at her.

"Speak for yourself," she said with a slight smirk.

He smiled slightly, and then lazily started to get up with help from the wall.

"Sir," she said following his lead and getting up herself, "from the last blood sample taken about an hour ago, we discovered that the inhibitor is dissipating."

"So…" Jack had a fairly good idea where this was heading, okay well not really, but sort of. He, at least, knew it didn't sound good.

"So, if Daniel is correct, then tonight you… you'll change, sir." She watched him a little pensively for a moment, then looked down at her clipboard.

Jack sighed, and then shrugged his shoulders, frankly he was out of energy to care. He may not, even if he did have the energy. He didn't remember the first time, not any dreams, not vague… anything. Nothing. And from what the Doc told him all he did was circle the room and growl at the mirror…

… That was possibly the oddest thought ever to go through his head, and he's had some weird ones.

Fraiser walked over to a tray that had been left in the room, and placed her clipboard down before turning toward him. "Sir, I'd like to try something."

* * *

"Well doctor?" The General said as he and the non-confined members of SG-1 looked over at Janet expectantly.

"Sir, as I guessed before, I can't reproduce the inhibitor. Nor do I think it would be safe even if I could." She pulled out a graph from the folder in front of her and placed it on the table so everyone could see it. "When the active compounds of the inhibitor began braking down this morning they released a mild toxin that the Colonel's body reacted to. According to Dr. Layr's tests, it was unavoidable, but his system should be clear of it in less then 24 hours. Unfortunately, the Colonel's body now recognizes the active compounds as a threat. He won't ever be able to use this inhibitor again."

There was a short pause of silence as this information sunk in, before Janet continued, "I also found from the test results this morning, that the virus is still active, though not as aggressively. I had originally thought that the virus had been cleared, when previous results showed nothing. The virus had just gone dormant. And the Colonel's body still doesn't recognize it as foreign."

"What do you recommend doctor?" General Hammond asked, the concern evident in his voice.

"We're still testing our options, sir."

Hammond nodded his head. "Let me know when you find anything."

"Yes sir," Janet hesitated, and then continued before the General could dismiss the group, "There's one more thing, sir. I'm not sure how this can be happening, but small physical mutations are happening right now."

"What do you mean?" Sam spoke up for the first time that meeting, before anyone else could. "I thought the mutations were temporarily stimulated all at once?"

"The larger mutations are. But from what I could tell, these are permanent. They're very small, and I probably wouldn't have noticed it, if the Colonel hadn't complained. Due to these mutations, the Colonel's hearing is now at least 4 times more sensitive than an average human's. He can hear frequencies up the 35 kHz! That's at least 15 kHz more than anyone of us in this room!" When she had first discovered this it had been a shock. A human's eardrum wasn't made to hear those high pitched sounds, and that was when she discovered the inner ear mutations that were happening. It was incredible, the way very minute changes to the cilia and cochlea could have such an effect.

But judging from the expressions of the others around the table, they didn't quite grasp what this meant.

"So you're saying that the Colonel could hear something as high pitched as… say a dog whistle?" Sam wished as soon as she said it that she hadn't. It was horribly ironic.

That comment would've been amusing if the situation was a little less serious, Janet thought. "I'm not sure how high pitched a dog whistle is, but that's probably about right." And she noticed that the comment seemed to clue the rest of the people around the table, so she continued on with her results. "I also found that his threshold of hearing is over 5 decibels lower than ours. He can clearly hear a whisper from at least a few feet away, if not more."

"Is the virus causing it?" Daniel spoke up curiously.

"Everything seems to lead back to the virus as the root cause." If she could get rid of that then all the mutations would come to a halt, but she wasn't sure if that was a good thing to do. She was concerned about what Sam, Daniel and Teal'c had told her about what Maeshrin had said—about how he was worried. If, as she suspected, the permanent chemical and physical mutations kept a person alive through the extreme stress of the temporary change, then she didn't feel good about tampering with it, or stopping it prematurely.

"Anything else doctor?" Hammond asked, not sure he wanted the answer.

"Uh, not right now sir, I'll let you know if anything comes up."

The General nodded. "Dismissed."

Janet gathered up the printouts she had taken out of the folder during the meeting, before leaving the briefing room—the three members of SG-1 waiting for her.

"Do you think we can visit him?" Sam asked as soon as they started walking.

"I'm sure he'd like that, but I have to warn you, he's not in a good mood."

* * *

Jack was a combination of three things at that moment: tired, bored and annoyed. He was surprised he hadn't lost his mind yet. He'd been like that for 3 friggin' hours. Three! Three hours! Just sitting here, doing _nothing_. Absolutely _nothing._

Well, okay, that wasn't completely true, but… wait, _yes it was_! Sure he got to leave his isolation room for a whole 2 hours _this morning_, but where did he get to go? The infirmary. Oh and wasn't that just joyful. Hearing tests, yay.

It was now 1600 hours, exactly.

And he had gotten to walk around the base a little sometime around noon, of course not without a guard and a nurse as escorts. …_And_ he wasn't allowed to leave the level. Does that even count as getting out and about?

The door opened, he heard it, but didn't bother turning to face whoever it was—or from the sounds of it, whoever they were. He couldn't tell who it was from the combination of footsteps. The door closed again, and all but one of the footsteps stopped. The Doc was walking toward him.

"Sir, you have some visitors."

That got his attention and he turned around. When he saw it was SG-1, he almost grinned. He turned to Fraiser quickly. "Hey, Doc, since my fever went down I've wanted to stretch my legs a little." He looked at her with his most hopeful expression.

She smiled slightly. "On two conditions: one, you're back in an hour," she glanced at the other members of the team, "—and I'll expect you three to make sure he is—and two, take the guard outside the door."

Jack shook his head. "Teal'c can take me down if I decide to run."

Fraiser glanced over at Teal'c and then nodded, giving her approval and Jack jumped off the bed with a smile, heading for the door, where his team waited.

* * *

Just a note: kHz stands for kilohertz which is how hearing is measured in regards to the pitch of sounds. Humans can normally hear between 20 hertz—a low sound like a bas—and 20 kilohertz (or 20,000 hertz)—a high sound like a squeaky tire. Decibels is quiet to loud 


	11. The Escape

The Escape

"Gee, Jack, you weren't desperate to get out of there," Daniel said with dry sarcasm.

"Shut up, Daniel. You try being stuck in there with nothing to do for hours on end," he said pretending to be annoyed. He wasn't really; he was far too relieved to be out of there with people who would actually be willing hold a conversation with him for any amount of time.

"So, what do you want to do sir?" Carter asked interrupting what could possibly escalate into anything from banter to argument.

"I'm starving. Let's eat." Jack said happy to finally get to be able to leave the level. God, he never wanted to go back down there.

* * *

Over two hours later, Jack was back down in the Room of Doom with two guards posted outside his door. Okay, he hadn't _exactly_ tried to escape, it wasn't as if he had wanted to disappear from the base or anything… he… just… didn't want to come back down _here_. So, when the hour was up, he attempted to stay out just a little bit longer. He had tried to reason with his team, to get them to ask Fraiser if he could stay out a few more minutes. Unfortunately, Daniel had been all adamant and started to argue with him—that argument actually lasted a while now that he came to think of it.

But then the SFs showed up (per Fraiser's instructions) and ruined everything. After that, everything went haywire. He got pissed off for no reason and he knew that, yet he couldn't help it. Or control it. Before he knew it, he had growled at the SFs and was running down a hallway. He managed to stop himself just before he opened an emergency escape hatch. That was when Teal'c hit him with a Zat. Where the hell did he get that from anyway?!

He decided right then, that he didn't like Zats anymore. It just can't be healthy to get shot. And he's been shot more times than he bothered to keep count of!

Jack rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. Damn it, he was starting to feel sick _again_! Hasn't he felt sick enough for one lifetime! He knew it wasn't still from the Zat; that was too long ago. He glanced over at the clock and then sat up. 2010 hours. And he was going to puke. Right now.

He grabbed the bucket that was under the tray the clock was on, slipping off the bed, and heaved up most of his stomach contents into it.

* * *

With a frustrated sigh, Janet slammed the folder closed and leaned back in her chair. Allowing her sore eyes to close, she made a conscious decision to leave the problem until tomorrow. If there even was a problem. There were slight chemical and hormonal imbalances throughout O'Neill's body, which was expected because of the virus and mutations, but _every_ time she looked at it, she got a feeling there was something wrong with it. Something she was over looking or just not seeing, that she _should_ be. What it was, she couldn't figure out.

Getting up slowly, she stretched and decided that an hour of reading the same report over and over deserved a break. She'd ask Dr. Layr to take a look at it tomorrow morning. There was nothing she could do about it now… Looking through some of the files on her desk, she noticed that there seemed to be less than earlier and then remembered that she had given some of the reports to Dr. MacKenzie.

She had requested that he be brought on because of the Colonel's erratic behavior. She wanted to know what was causing it, and psychology/psychiatry wasn't exactly an expertise of hers. Plus she already had her plate full.

Deciding that she'd show the chart to MacKenzie tomorrow as well, she glanced over at the clock. Damn, she was late! She was supposed to check on O'Neill half an hour ago!

Quickly, she jogged out of her office and along the familiar path to the isolation room.

When she reached the isolation room, she immediately started to go for the door, but then hesitated, checking her watch. It was 2100 hours—when was the moon supposed to rise? Was there even that close a relation between the two? She wondered what it was that actually stimulated the initiating reaction and how it could possibly relate to the rising of the full moon, as she made her way along the corridor to the observation room as a precautionary measure.

Turning into the small room, she knew almost instantly that she was too late. O'Neill was curled up, like the first time she had seen him, against one of the bare walls in the room. It looked almost like he had been sitting against the wall and then curled over in pain. She sighed and unconsciously held her pen tighter as she mentally prepared herself for watching it again.

"How is he doctor?" came the familiar voice of General Hammond from the doorway.

She almost started at his sudden appearance and then sighed. "Probably in a lot of pain." She gestured toward the prone figure as Hammond came up beside her.

He too sighed as he looked out through the window-mirror at his second in command. There was a quiet, tense pause as they watched the man's tremor wracked body begin to alter it shape, before he spoke up again, turning to Dr. Fraiser. "Doctor, I'm not sure what I'm gonna do. If this is permanent, I may not be able to put Colonel O'Neill back on duty. But he may not be able to leave the base because of his condition. Tell me you've got something…"

"Sir, if I may…" Janet paused briefly then continued when he nodded, "_If_—and I put emphasis of the 'if'—the legends Daniel has been telling me about are the truth then this should only happen when there's a full moon. _That_ only happens, roughly once a month. According to the stories, the rest of the days they act as normal, healthy humans."

"What about his erratic behaviour?" Automatically, Hammond glanced back at the figure in the room which was now more than half-way changed into wolf-like form underneath the baggy infirmary clothes.

"You'll have to talk to Dr. MacKenzie about that; or maybe whomever they're sending from the planet to help. But I _do_ know, that if he has to stay here long term, he needs something to do other than think about what's wrong with him. It's probably not helping his mental state, either." She looked back at her patient, and scribbled down a few things she observed about the mutation, before glancing back at the General. "Anyway, these people probably know more about their own condition than we do, so…" She shrugged.

"I have all intentions of waiting for some answers from these people doctor. I just haven't done up my report yet, and was hoping for a little progress before I do." The last update he'd given his superiors, was that Colonel O'Neill had a none contagious virus and his report was about a day overdue. Maybe he'd put it off a little longer, after he got some answers.

She gave him a slight knowing smile. "Sorry, sir."

* * *

The wolf stretched languidly as he woke up, yawning widely. His muscles were still sore, though not half as much as the other night. He knew that the longer he was awake the more the pain would diminish. It was an instinct he knew of himself.

As he began to get up, he simultaneously managed to wriggle out of the material constricting his movements. Being free from the cloth, though, didn't do anything to put him in a good mood as he realised that he still remained inside the prey's trap. In fact his anger rose again. However it was slightly tempered by the determined decision that he would find his escape route tonight. He could feel his own strength start to pulse through him as the soreness in his muscles began to dim. He licked his lips—perhaps tonight he would be able to exact his revenge…

A slight thrill went through him at the thought, but he pushed the feeling down for now. He would be patient for his chance, and he would take pleasure in the smell of their fear as they recognize that they are the trapped ones.

But first, his break out.

He circled the room a few times, before ending up at the same place as the other night. The side of the trap that the scents led to. He began to pace in front of this confusing anomaly. How could this be? There must be something in which the prey was escaping the trap. And therefore, a way for him also.

For a very long time he scouted the area, over and over he was led to no conclusion, for how it was done, until finally, he realised the scents were not only on the ground, but on certain parts of the side as well. Following where the scents were strongest he started to nose the wall curiously.

* * *

Janet sighed and put the last test results of the night down. She needed sleep. One last check on O'Neill and then home. If she was awake enough to drive home… She was debating whether to just take a VIP room. Sam said she'd take care of Cassie for her so she didn't have to worry about that.

Shaking her head, she put it out of her mind for now, and made her way back to where the Colonel was. She glanced at her watch quickly. It was only 2430 hours and she wondered briefly how it could feel _so_ much later.

There wasn't a guard for the door to the room. Between her and Hammond it was decided that it would be pointless this late at night when O'Neill wasn't even human enough to try to get out. You'd need either an ID card or the sequence of numbers that most nurses used to get out because it was faster and easier. Although it was completely possible to lock out the keypad so that it just relied on the ID card, that wasn't really necessary for the Colonel. She knew he didn't know the key code.

Turning into the observation room she froze. Through the window-mirror all she could see was an empty room.


	12. The Attack

The Attack

Spinning on her heels, in a moment of pure self-preservation instinct, she slammed the door to the observation room closed, before she hit the alarm and picked up the phone.

"This is Dr. Fraiser, evacuate and lock down Level 21," it was better to be safe than sorry, and she, for once, didn't have any patients in the infirmary so the staff was minimal, evacuation, right now, was the best option, "and get General Hammond on the phone," she spoke in her most 'that's final' voice and fell silent as the officer patched her through to the General's cell phone.

"Hammond," came the slightly accented voice warily, as though he knew that it would be bad news. Then again, it's not hard to figure out that a call in the middle of the night from the SGC can't be a good thing.

"Sorry to bother you, sir, but… he's loose," she said quietly and matter-of-factly.

"Loose?"

"Yes sir."

"_Loose?!_ … _How the hell did he get loose?!_" the General's voice quickly became angry.

"I'm not sure. It couldn't have been too long. I evacuated the level."

"All of you get outta there alright?"

"I don't know sir. I've locked myself in the observation room." There was a quiet pause on the line, so she continued talking. "Sir, I've also – " She was cut off by a sudden blaring of the klaxons and she started slightly.

"Sir, someone's coming through the Stargate."

"What? No one's scheduled to come through 'til 0800 tomorrow," there was a short sigh before, "I'm going to let you go doctor; stay where you are, I'll send a team in to tranquilize him."

"Yes sir." She pulled the phone from her ear, hit a button on the phone base so that Hammond would be transferred back to the operator, before hanging up. She leaned back against the table, crossing her arms and listening worriedly to the announcements between the klaxons buzzing. She was concerned about why a team would be coming through now and hoping beyond hope that no one was severely injured.

Generally, when people evacuate, they don't usually evacuate deeper underground. That meant all the nurses that were on tonight were in the levels above her. She was the closest to the Stargate, and the only one on the same level as the infirmary. If anyone was hurt badly, she was the only one who could get anything that didn't come in the med kits that were posted around the base.

It felt like hours—before she heard the thing she really didn't want to hear.

"Medical team to 'Gate Room."

She wanted to go right then, but she forced herself to sit in a chair and wait. The phone ringing a couple minutes later, startled her. She snatched it up.

"Fraiser," she said briskly.

"Doctor," came General Hammond's voice again, "there should be a team of marines at your position in about 5 minutes. They'll take you to the infirmary to get what you need."

"Yes, sir." She hung up, and hesitated. Wondering what type of injury it was, and hoping that she didn't actually have to use any of the large equipment in the infirmary until O'Neill got caught.

* * *

The wolf had left the trap a while ago and had been tracking different scents to where ever they led. And every fresh scent he came across, he would get hungrier and hungrier. He wanted the flesh that created the scent. In his mind, he pictured the sweet taste of frightened prey, and he licked his lips.

Suddenly, for the first time since leaving the trap, he smelled a completely fresh scent; the prey had barely walked passed here. He followed the scent carefully.

It led right into another wall. He sniffed around the edge of the wall for a second, this wasn't like the trap though. There was a small gap between where the ground was and where the wall began and he could smell that the scent continued inside. He dug at the ground with one paw a few times and feeling no give, he knew that he would not be able to get in that way.

Rocking back on his hind legs, he pressed his front paws against the door and started to sniff it curiously. Perhaps this was like the moving wall that had trapped him? He nosed around, but the only strong scents he could smell was on a round knob that he couldn't figure out how to work.

Suddenly, his ear swivelled and he turned toward a noise coming from the end of the hall; just before a group of prey came around the corner. Standing on all four paws, he faced them. His hackles rising as he drew back his lips, baring his teeth. He growled loudly, and then flared his nose to scent if there was any reaction.

The group of prey stopped and two of them raised something that they held in their hand up to their faces. Instinct screamed at him that those things they held were dangerous and he leapt to the side just as they shot one off and something small flew passed him, hitting the ground with a _chink_. The sound distracted him for an instant, but he managed to avoid getting hit by another shot, barely.

Just then the door that he had been investigating opened and within a split second, he had lunged at her. His jaw about to close around the defenceless prey leg, when a sharp pain stabbed through his side. Distracted, the prey pulled its leg away, his tooth scraping it, before he decided retreat was a better option.

He backed away quickly and loped off around a corner as fast as he could. But he didn't stop there; he continued to weave through the hallways until he felt himself loose all of his energy. He grew tired and groggy faster then he thought he would and quite suddenly he found it difficult to focus. He slowed right down to a walk and started to look for a place to curl up and sleep. After a few minutes, he began to feel his legs shake each time he took a step, but he forced himself to stay awake and keep going.

He came across a dark room and turned into it, hoping he'd be able to find a little crevice to crawl into where he would be safe while he slept. Crawling into a small dark area that fit him just perfectly, he curled up into a tight ball and allowed himself to sleep.

* * *

Fraiser stared at the cut on her leg in shock. Damn! Damn it! Damn it and shit!

One of the marines walked up to her and offered her a hand up. "Are you alright doctor?"

She took a deep breath. How could she have been so stupid!! Damn it! She took another deep breath—well there was nothing she could do for it now. She took the offered had and stood up. "I'm fine, thank you. Now, what do we need from the infirmary?"


	13. The Arrival

Warning: mentions of nudity.

The Arrival

Dr. Fraiser sat in her chair trying to focus on the files in front of her, but becoming more and more aware as time went on, of the small bandage attached to her calf, just above her ankle, and the fact that the search for O'Neill was still going on. They had started to go through the security tapes but they all knew that would be a while.

She had already briefed Hammond and the rest of SG-1 on what had happened last night. Immediately afterward, Daniel, Sam and Teal'c had started to help with the search. That briefing was four hours ago. She sighed.

They were all still waiting for… whomever it was supposed to come through the 'gate. She was too tired to remember the name. She was too tired to read. Hell, she was too tired to do anything but sit here. She sighed and pushed herself away from the desk, leaning back in her chair. Throwing an arm over her sore eyes, she wondered what would happen if she just fell asleep right here. Probably nothing, she concluded. Even if someone important walked in on her, she doubted if they would say anything.

She had an excuse. She hadn't gotten very much sleep last night, between the medical emergency—which luckily wasn't too severe: a few burn wounds and a broken arm—and later running tests on herself, trying to find out whether she was infected or not. The scrape really wasn't all that deep and it was only about 1½ inches long. It was hard to say whether or not enough of the virus had gotten into her to infect her and of course the tests were inconclusive.

She wondered how long the virus stayed dormant naturally before it activated. She had no idea when the virus in the Colonel's body had become active since she hadn't even been aware of its existence, plus it seemed reasonable to assume that the virus had been stimulated prematurely, his body didn't seem properly prepared for the physical transformation.

Forcefully, she shoved the whole train of thought from her mind and concentrated on keeping her mind blank, which surprisingly worked, sort of… until she fell asleep.

* * *

Jack groaned as woke up. His body was _sore_. Kind of like he had worked every individual muscle to exhaustion. It hurt to move, so he didn't, for a few seconds anyway. It didn't take long though, to realize something wasn't quite right about his situation.

The first thing he noticed was that he was completely naked. Completely naked, lying on his side in what felt like a box – a hard, cold box that had the same texture as laminate flooring. He could feel the wall behind his head, and against his back… and if he just stretched his legs out a little… yep, there was a wall at his feet as well. Reaching up, against the complaints of his muscles, he found a low ceiling.

His eyes had adjusted quickly to the near pitch black of the box, and he reached out in front of him, placing his hand next to the sliver of light that ran vertically down the wall—which was obviously a door, he concluded—and was about to push it open when a noise on the other side made him stop.

It sounded like a door opening and a few people entering.

"Okay, what did he say we were supposed to get?" a male voice asked in an irritated way.

"Uh, I've got the list right here… um, somewhere. Hold on," a mousy sounding woman answered back.

"Hey, this is where it went," another woman commented quietly, "I thought I lost it."

"What's that?" the same guy asked as he walked around the room.

"Oh, it was just part of that particle dampener we were working on a couple months ago," the quiet woman answered.

Jack sighed and rolled his eyes. Yeah, it would be just his luck to be stuck in a cupboard, naked, with a room full of scientists. And what the heck was there an empty cupboard doing in a science lab?! Weren't they always complaining about not having enough room?! What the hell was with that? He'd be mentioning this to someone once he got out of here.

And about getting out of here… He thought about just staying there until they left, but it was only briefly. He had to get out of here. He had to find out why the hell he was in a cupboard, and he was very much _not_ in the mood to care about anything at the moment. Least of all the fact that he was naked. So, groaning quietly at the effort it took and the resulting pain, he pushed open the doors and crawled out into the bright and painful light.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position once he had cleared the cupboard, his arms trembling at the effort. Quickly he raised a hand to his eyes covering them as he let out a string of curses.

"Um, are – are you okay?" the quiet woman asked him after the second of silent surprise. He could hear her rush over to him and then felt her place a gentle hand on his back as she crouched down beside him.

"Colonel O'Neill?" the mousey voiced woman asked before he could answer—not that he was going to. The voice did sound vaguely familiar but at that particular moment in time, he couldn't care less who it was.

Slowly he removed the hand from his eyes and blinking a couple of times to allow his eyes to adjust, he was relieved to find that they no longer hurt. More slowly the other two scientists walked over to him, crouching down beside him.

"Give me a damn lab coat and help me up," he snapped trying to concentrate on gathering as much energy as possible. The situation really wasn't helping very much.

Both the women glared at the guy scientist for a minute before he sighed and took off his lab coat. He made an impatient gesture at the two other scientists for them to move before he helped Jack get the coat on and do up the three buttons on the front.

Slowly, Jack got up off the floor with minimal help, shrugging the hands off him. The pain had already began to subside a little and he wasn't feeling quite so bad, therefore he took a few steps forward on his own before his body forced him to stop as his legs almost gave out on him. Suddenly, the quiet woman was underneath his arm holding it firmly on her shoulder.

"Don't be stupid," she commented blatantly.

"I know," he replied, grateful for her help.

"Brian, get over here and help me with him. We have to get him to the infirmary," she threw over her shoulder at the guy scientist.

Brian made a sound like he was getting severely put out by the request but he walked over anyway and together they helped Jack walk out of the room.

The Colonel ignored both scientists as he focused all his attention on keeping the nausea that had suddenly arisen at bay. And being quite proud that so far he was successful.

A few minutes later—ha, if a few minutes took that long, he'd shoot himself in the toe—they were walking down the home stretch, the last hallway before they reached the infirmary. At this point though, he was wishing he had stayed in the cupboard and just had a nap.

Suddenly, Carter appeared from the door just ahead of them and with a distinct look of relief, she made her way over to them. "Colonel, we've been looking for you for hours. I'll go get Janet." She turned on her heel and went back through the door.

They had just gotten inside when the Doc met up with them. "Lie him down over there," she said to the two scientists holding him up.

They did as she asked quickly, helping him up onto the bed before the quiet woman dragged Brian hastily out of the room.

"Hey Doc," he said before she could ask him any annoying questions, "you look like hell."

"Right back at you, sir," she said. "And look, our clothing even matches." She smiled at him.

He rolled his eyes. "It was the only thing available," he said with a groan.

The klaxons abruptly came to life, bringing a halt to there conversation/banter. Doctor Fraiser looked up at the announcement that it was an unscheduled off world activation. And she wondered if it was the alien they were expecting.

But then put it out of her mind as the alarms stopped, she'd find out soon enough if it was. "So, where were you?" she asked curiously.

"A big cupboard," he answered a little relieved that she hadn't started into the medical questions. "I woke up in a dark cupboard in a room full of scientists," he said, irritated.

She held back a laugh at that, though the smile she wore screamed of amusement. "Really?" she asked as her smile grew steadily wider.

"Yeah, for a second I thought I'd died and that was my punishment for eternity," he said groaning emphatically.

She laughed lightly.

* * *

"Open the iris!" General Hammond ordered when they discovered who was trying to contact them. It was the people from Phelan. He left the control room and entered the 'Gate room just as the wormhole disengaged. He walked up to the single person that stood on the ramp.

"You are General Hammond?" She asked before he could say anything.

He nodded as he answered. "Yes I am."

She kneeled down before him her head bowed and her fingers laced behind her back. "I am sorry that we could not keep our promise of sending Reshna to help your friend. I have been sent to you as compensation as Reshna is urgently needed on our world. I also must inform you of the situation that has arisen."

General Hammond nodded absently. "Alright, uh," it was a little strange talking to someone when they were kneeling.

"Airsha?" Daniel's voice asked from the doorway. Three members of SG-1 entered the 'Gate room and made there way over to the General and the female werewolf.

She glanced briefly up at them, but didn't say a word.

Not five minutes later, Hammond, the three members of SG-1 and Airsha were seated around the Briefing Room table. She spoke in a quiet, controlled voice as she explained the reason for her being there.

"Reshna was needed, as I said I am to be compensation for our broken agreement."

"Why was Reshna needed?" Daniel asked trying not to sound nosy and succeeding.

"We have fallen under attack. Not just Iryshrow, but all of Phelan. Iryshrow is our world's first line of defence because of our position. We fell under heavy attack through the Stargate more than a day ago. We were able to get to the Controller and halt the invasion before it became too much. We forced the enemies to submit, but we have word that more will arrive shortly by ship. We are gathering our allies now. Preparing for the battle."


End file.
